


you carry me

by memitims



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2142363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ian makes mickey stargaze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you carry me

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [sara's](http://noelfuckinfisher.tumblr.com/) post [[x](http://noelfuckinfisher.tumblr.com/post/94754467028/ian-and-mickey-driving-late-at-night-and-their-car)] ('Ian and Mickey driving late at night and their car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. So Ian takes the opportunity to star gaze and Mickey acts all annoyed but loves it.')

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Mickey said, leaning his head back against the seat of the car and rubbing his eyes. Ian looked over at him. Mickey looked beat, he looked just plain tired, it had been a long week and he really needed some sleep.

“Sorry,” Ian shrugged. “Not my fault the car we bought is a piece of shit. Kev’s on his way, though, he’ll be here in like half an hour. He’s good with cars.”

Mickey sighed. “Thank god. I wanna be fucking asleep right now.”

Ian tried the engine one more time, but it just sputtered a few times before giving out, so he shut the car off. “I have an idea,” he said, as he pushed open the car door and hopped outside. He had managed to pull into an empty supermarket parking lot before the car completely broke down. They were out in the quiet suburbs outside of the city because they were bribed into dropping Carl off at a friend’s house, someone he knew from his baseball team, but their efforts to make it home had been thwarted by their old, useless Chevy.

“Great,” Mickey groaned. “Your ideas always work out well.”

Ian decided to ignore him in favor of opening the trunk and pulling out the threadbare green blanket he kept back there, because no one in his family knew shit about owning a car, but he’d read online that it was always handy to have a blanket in case you got trapped in a snowstorm or something like that. He shut the trunk and walked over to the passenger side. Ian cupped his hands against Mickey’s window and pressed his nose against the glass, and his face probably looked weird and smushed and fucking ridiculous, but it was worth it to see Mickey laugh. Ian even fogged up the glass a little bit with his breath and dragged his finger over the misty patch to draw a smiley face. He thought about drawing a heart, but he didn’t.

Mickey was rolling his eyes and laughing at the same time, nothing huge, but even just his little chuckle made Ian’s whole body feel stupidly pleased. “You’re dumb,” he called through the window, and Ian just grinned and pulled open Mickey’s door.

“Takes one to know one.” Probably not his best comeback, but it  _was_  late. He wrapped his fingers around Mickey’s wrist and dragged him out of the car. “C’mon. We got things to do.”

“Yeah,” Mickey asked, “What are we doing exactly?”

“Stargazing,” Ian said, matter-of-factly.

Mickey groaned. “That shit’s for losers.”

“Good thing we’re losers,” Ian said, spreading out the blanket on the cold concrete in front of the car. He plopped down on it, stretching his legs out in front of him, and motioned for Mickey to join him. Mickey did, with some reluctance, and he laid down completely, yawning loudly. Ian stayed propped up on his hands and looked upwards. They were far enough out of the city that the stars were bright out here, and they glimmered away in the sky in a way that almost took Ian’s breath away. He had always enjoyed stargazing as a kid, had always made Fiona take him outside and point out the constellations and he’d checked out book after book from the library about the Milky Way and space and the planets.

(' _Jesus Christ, you want us to spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?'_

Yeah,  _Ian had wanted to say_ , I love the stars,  _but it wasn’t the right time, so he had kept his mouth shut and protected his heart. Joke was on Mickey, though, because they got there eventually. They got to kissing for the sake of kissing and sleeping wrapped up in each other and stability and love and shooting stars_.)

Mickey didn’t seem to have the same fascination with stars. “Nerd,” he muttered under his breath, when Ian pointed out Orion’s Belt. Ian flicked his shoulder gently.

“Ow,” Mickey said.

“Suck it up, big guy.”

Mickey couldn’t sit still. “Pavement is fucking uncomfortable,” he complained, fidgeting around on the blanket, and Ian could tell that he was really tired, because his voice was soft and his motions were slow and he kept blinking drowsily.

“Mickey,” Ian said. “Put your head on my goddamn chest.”

He made a few more complaining noises, but he did what Ian told him to. Mickey turned his body perpendicular to Ian’s and laid his head back so it rested on Ian’s stomach. It was a warm summer night, the kind with fireflies and heavy air, when every kiss seemed to last a little longer and taste a little sweeter, the kind that Ian and Mickey had spent in the baseball dugout all those years ago, when everything wasn’t so complicated, but they were still young and scared and fumbling through the way they felt about each other.

Ian leaned his head all the way back against the pavement and he stared up at the tiny pinpricks of light in the dark sky and he could feel himself slowly falling asleep. He always fell asleep faster when Mickey was touching him, warm and safe and heavy against Ian’s body, even though his meds sometimes made him restless and jumpy. Mickey always helped and Ian sometimes still couldn’t believe that he’d found the one person that he could fall asleep with, and that Mickey was staying.

Ian took a deep breath. He flicked his gaze down to Mickey, whose eyes were barely open, but they were so fucking blue and bright and shiny. A dumb thought popped into Ian’s mind, the kind that he had all the time around Mickey, so fucking stupid and mushy and he rarely ever said them aloud.

“Your eyes are like - you eyes are like the stars,” Ian said, because it was late, and it was easier to talk when he was on the edge of sleep, and Mickey was looking up at him in that way that made Ian say silly shit because he was just so fucking glad that Mickey was here, that they were here, together.

“Um,” Mickey said, sleepily, but still awake enough to sound utterly annoyed by Ian’s sappy bullshit. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Ian laughed, a quiet huff of breath. “Oh, sorry. I mean, your eyes are like an explosion. A big manly explosion with lots of fire and guns and shit. Super manly.”

Mickey made an amused noise. “I think I liked the stars thing better, you fucking weirdo.”

“Okay,” Ian grinned. “Me too.”

He squinted down at Mickey’s profile, at his closed eyes and the way the rest of his face was open and relaxed and everything Mickey couldn’t be during the day. Ian watched as Mickey squirmed for a few seconds before finding a comfortable position on Ian’s chest, the top of his hair brushing the tip of Ian’s chin. Ian breathed him in and Mickey opened one eye to glare at him.

“Don’t fucking smell me,” he whined.

Ian just buried his nose in Mickey’s hair and gave him a cheeky smile. “Too late.”

Mickey groaned, but he didn’t move away. He closed his eyes and Ian watched as his breathing evened out until he fell asleep. Ian brought one of his hands up around Mickey’s waist to hold him steady, and Mickey instinctively leaned into his touch.

 _I love you_ , Ian wanted to say, his mouth pressed against Mickey’s hair,  _You have stars in your eyes and you mean the world to me_ , but he didn’t. Ian thought about Mickey and starlight and the smell of his shampoo as he drifted off to sleep, the empty parking lot silent around them.

\---

Kevin shook him awake an indeterminate amount of time later; Mickey was still out cold against his chest.

“Yo,” Kev said, gently nudging at Ian’s shoulder. “Boys. Time to get up.”

Ian made a few undignified noises and blinked a couple times, before sitting up on the blanket. Mickey stayed asleep and he was making these endearing little snuffling sounds that made Ian’s heart fucking melt. His back ached from the hard concrete and his mouth was dry, but Ian wasn’t complaining.

“Fixed your damn car,” Kevin whispered, since it was pretty clear now that Mickey wasn’t waking up anytime soon.

Ian ran a hand over his tired eyes and smiled. “Thanks a million, Kev. Don’t know what we’d do without ya.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t mention it. Don’t want you and Mickey trapped in suburbia. Someone might take one look at those knuckle tats and have a fucking heart attack.”

Ian laughed and grabbed one of Mickey’s hands. He ran over the knuckles for a second, tracing the dark ink of the C with the pads of his fingers, before lacing them together and resting their joined hands against Mickey’s stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as Mickey breathed softly.

“Hey,” Kevin murmured, and Ian’s cheeks flushed a little in the darkness, because he had almost forgotten for a second that Kevin was there at all, and he wasn’t used to people seeing the way he and Mickey were in the open, and it was probably a good thing that Mickey was still asleep, but Ian knew Kev didn’t care (Fiona had told him, once, in the middle of the night, after she’d had a few beers and initiated some fuckin’ older sister heart-to-heart, that he and Mickey were so soft around each other, and Ian hadn’t known how to respond. It was true, he guessed, and that made something in his heart seize up, made his throat tighten, because they were two hard boys, shaped by dysfunctional families and a shitty neighborhood and the bitter taste of fear, they were two bullets that collided gently despite everything they were made to be). “You okay to drive home? Or do you need some help with Sleepyhead down there?”

“I can handle it, Kev. Thanks again.”

“Mm,” Kevin rose to his feet and tossed Ian’s keys towards him. He must have snatched them from Ian’s pocket while he was still asleep, and Ian was glad Kevin had let them sleep. They wouldn’t have been much of a help anyways, what with Ian’s minimal experience with mechanics and Mickey falling asleep on his feet. “Drive safe. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.” Kev headed off towards his truck and drove off, leaving Ian and Mickey alone with the stars once again.

Ian curled his hand - the one not already tangled with Mickey’s - around his shoulder and shook it gently. “Alright, man. Time to get up and go home.”  _Home_. He loved the feel of that word in his mouth, home meant anywhere with warmth and love and Mickey, it meant their dusty, old bedroom and the Gallagher house and their beat-up Chevy.

Mickey didn’t open his eyes, but Ian heard a few murmurs of  _no_ , and  _sleeping_ , and  _asshole_.

“C’mon,” Ian said. “Want me to carry you?”

“Always carryin’ me, Ian,” Mickey muttered softly, half-delirious with sleep. “Since day one,” and Ian wasn’t even exactly sure what that meant, but it made something in his heart twinge. Ian caught some element of amazement in Mickey’s voice, something that made him want to laugh and cry, all at the same time.

“Fuckin’ sap,” Ian chuckled, a little shakily, but he wasn’t gonna cry over something dumb Mickey said on the edge of sleep. “Let’s go home.”

Mickey let Ian pull him to his feet and fold an arm around his shoulder as they slowly made their way towards the car. Ian deposited Mickey in the front seat and he immediately curled up on the chair and, presumably, fell back asleep. He reached over and ran a hand over Mickey’s hair, just a quick touch that made a small smile flit over his face. Ian loved that Mickey couldn’t hide behind his carefully-crafted walls when he was sleeping, he loved that he could touch Mickey as much as he wanted, and he loved that Mickey touched him back, too.

Ian started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, opening his eyes as wide as they could go. Coffee sounded really fucking good right now.

“We carry each other,” Ian said, into the darkness of the car, because it was true and he wanted to taste the words on his tongue, the way they nestled in the hollows of his heart, filling it up in a way that had been impossible before Mickey came along. It wasn’t anything close to what he really wanted to say, what he really felt, what he really wanted Mickey to hear, but it was a start.

“Fucking right, we do,” Mickey whispered, not completely asleep after all, and he found Ian’s hand between the seats and held on tight.


End file.
